A week or so ago, I mistakenly thought that one of my neighbours’ green boxes was in fact an old one of ours that had been missing. It was sitting there in our driveway for a couple of days, so I nabbed it and scrawled our house number on it in purple. Turns out it was actually theirs. So, I put it back. Only thing is, the big purple number wouldn’t come off it. So, I thought I’d casually mention the mix-up when next I saw one of them.
A week later and I have yet to set eyes on either one of them. Whilst I am a stay-home mum, they are both incredibly busy entrepreneurs, whose pace of life is mind-boggling. I thought about texting them, in case they think that I am a bit strange for having hijacked, scrawled on and then returned their green box. But it dawned on me that they might actually think it even stranger that I would be sending such a mundane text, for something that probably doesn’t even register on their radar.
That’s when it really hit me how much my life has downsized since becoming primarily a stay-home mum. Things that under different circumstances I wouldn’t even have time to think about, take on a greater share of my brain space than I’d like. After almost two years of caring for my daughter full-time, my mind is champing at the bit to be exercised in ways beyond mothering a toddler and running a house. But, it makes me sad, because the day that she starts nursery, will be the end of an era. The most special period of time that a mummy and child can have together. So, much as I worry that my neighbours may well think I am a bit potty, I am going to miss having the time to get my knickers in a twist over a green box saga.
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